


The Wheel

by HappyDagger



Series: Requests [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Past Lives, Discipline, M/M, OTK, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Spanking, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 17:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyDagger/pseuds/HappyDagger
Summary: Twilight Zone thramsay story (I hope), which attempts to fill my most challenging request to date.Java1 wants to see Theon in Heke's place.Meet the old Reek, same as the new Reek.





	1. Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Java1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Java1/gifts).



“Kill me.”

Stannis’ eyes slowly drifted up from the map he was studying. “I plan to, turncloak. Leave me work in peace and I'll grant you death shortly.”

“He’s coming,” Theon gasped. It was becoming harder and harder to expand his aching ribs. Maybe he’d just fall asleep hanging from the wall and never wake again.

“So you’ve said.”

“My sister…” he’d spent the cold air left in his lungs and dropped his swimming head. It was all agony, all these last years of his life. _At least, there was Jeyne. That one act cannot be cut from me nor extinguished with the miserable conclusion to my miserable life._

“She will be there.”

 

_“Theon.”_

He stumbled but Baratheon’s men helped him back to his feet before he’d even landed in that same snow which would come to make a bloody battlefield look clean again; as though nothing had happened or ever mattered.

Stannis was reading his charges. How bored he sounded by Theon’s death. There were no drums playing, or many people to watch, but there was Asha.

Theon nodded to her and smiled.

She nodded back and kept blinking.

“ _T_ _heon.”_ It sounded like Bran. _“Kill the monster while he sleeps. Bring light to the shadow.”_

“What?” he whispered and got on his knees, sinking into the snow.

_“Wake up.”_

 

Asha flinched when the sword was brought down and kept her eyes closed.

 

_“What the fuck is this?” She had spun a ring of flowers around, examining it._

_“It’s a crown.” Theon was so little then. His face was all eyes and a hesitant smile. “For when you’re queen.”_

_“It doesn’t work that way, stupid. You have to learn about the real world.” The Seastone Chair would go to him sooner, she realized bitterly even as she sat on a warm rock watching the ships leave and knowing so much more than he._

_“Oh. Well, I made it for you anyhow.” Asha watched the nuissance climb down the shore, confused by his perennial affection._

 

The witch filled a chalice with Theon's royal blood, then they laid his body on a funeral pyre.

“You were too soft, baby brother. They don’t know your heart, but I do.” She took a flower Quarl gifted her from her axe holster and slid it behind Theon’s ear.

 

***

  
Theon woke with a tear on his eyelid and a flower in his hair, and when he sat up, he found it was Summer.


	2. Hunger

 

Theon sat up very slowly.

Ash fell away from a clean cotton tunic like beads of water off a well-oiled sword. Sunlight sparkled down upon him lazily through green leaves dancing in the breeze. The wood beneath him didn’t creak, roll, or shift when Theon climbed down off his funeral pyre but a twig snapped under his foot as he stepped onto the soft clay dirt.

He freely drew a deep chestful of sweet air. It didn’t even hurt. Theon backed up to touch the wood he’d awaken upon, needing some kind of anchor. The wooden structure was gone just like a dream.

After spinning in confused half-circles for some time, Theon cautiously followed the inviting sound of rushing waters. He found himself so joyfully free of pain that his thirst and hunger were suddenly amplified; their echoes resounding in the emptiness.

A narrow boar’s path lead down to the growing roar of rapids and sweet cool smell of the river. Veins pumped against Theon’s skull with every heartbeat.

 

_“Thirsty?”_

_Theon nodded, whimpering the way he liked._

_Leather screamed under Ramsay when he leaned forward in that gods-damned chair he loved so much. “And how badly do you want a drink?”_

 

At last, he collapsed, knees sinking, onto the gentle shore. He plunged both hands into the clear water to cup them then shook with a gasp. He stared at the leather gloves his sister had slipped on his hands the last time they’d spoken.

 

_“And boots.”_

_Stannis rolled his eyes._

_“He is a Prince.”_

_Theon smirked sadly. So did she._

 

After staring for an amount of time beyond measuring, he finally yanked the loose leather from his hand. “Ha! Haaa…” Theon slowly wiggled five astonishing fingers. He grabbed his crotch then screamed like a rooster at dawn. Theon’s mad laughter resounded off the sunny hillside.

The other glove came off and then the boots, and his clothing. He leaped into the cool river which he had just hobbled across, sinking there- by the bent pine- into the snow.

Now he splashed and dove and jumped up, letting the water follow his intact limbs in clear, dazzling trails which vanished to applause upon the easy current.

 

“I told you he’d be bathing,” Rikard muttered.

Maester Tybald eyed the lad without much congratulation in his expression. He sighed and faced the Weeping Waters. “Reek!”

Theon spun and toppled with a splash. He slowly pushed back up just enough to peer above the unsteady water. They were both staring right at him.

“Come, boy. You’ve done all you can.” Maester Tybald waved him towards the shore.

“Don’t matter anyhow,” a Bolton man beside him grumbled loudly enough.

Theon looked all around, waiting for more men to come out from behind the trees and listening for dogs or trumpets. But the men just stood there looking bored and a bit impatient.

“I’m hungry!” The strange Bolton man called.

“We’ll eat when we get there.” Maester Tybald bent slightly and clapped his hands together a few times. “Come! Come, Reek. Hurry out.”

 _Food._ What would it be like to eat fresh food with a mouthful of teeth again? Theon licked his lips and swallowed the hot rising tide of saliva overtaking his mouth.

 

“Here. Dry off.” The maester tossed Theon a rough blanket.

“Oye, wha- that’s for my horse!” Rikard protested.

Theon stopped patting himself down. “Oh, I’m sorry. Here-”

“Keep it!”

Theon dressed in his light tunic and trousers, but couldn’t find the black leather boots or gloves he thought he had died wearing.

“You take the pig. Maybe he’ll like you better if you bring the gift,” Maester Tybald yawned, stretching. “We’ll stop at the baker’s and get him some pastries.”

Theon nodded and swallowed.

“Don’t forget your flower,” Rikard laughed and tossed it at him.

Theon caught the flower he’d awoken with and tucked it safely behind his ear, where he’d found it.

 

They walked along a smooth path above the sloping bank of the river. Pollen floated in the sunlight like leaves in a stream. Birds sang and erupted in flocks from trees thick with green leaves while insects buzzed from one plant to another.

 

_"Go on!"_

_All the girls dipped at once into cowering and wagged their tails uneasily, low between their legs._

_"You're starving the runt." Ramsay kicked a mangled turkey leg Reek's way. It bounced and rolled wobbling towards him. "Aren't they?"_

_Reek peered up briefly to ascertain if this was a rhetorical question or not. "Yes, Master. Thank you," he mumbled. He crawled forward until the chain at his ankle stopped him and reached for the scrap._

 

The bakery was so sweetly, warmly fragrant Theon swooned into stone and mortar side, drooling. His aching stomach cramped and churned furiously. The fat and curious pig Theon was pulling along snorted around its entrance until Maester Tybald emerged with a small sack. “Won’t be long now.”

“It won’t?”

Rikard raised an eyebrow at the miserable boy.  “It’s over right there, down the hill. Haven’t you ever seen a mill before?”


	3. Fear

 

He heard the wheel before he could see it. Water flowed down an open chute, dropping onto a dark paddle, green at the edges. Theon watched the plank fall into the shadowed river and emerge again on the other side, returning to sunlight. It sounded like waves that never stopped crashing.

He was shoved forward. “Don’t lose your nerve; he’s only a boy.”

Theon looked back at the Bolton man he didn’t recognize. “What… what shall I-”

“STOP!” A small but strong woman shouted over the subdued roar of the water. She peered through her open door, holding a crossbow in front of her. “Stop right there, please. What is this? Where is _he_?”

“Lord Bolton has sent gifts for you and his bastard.”

Theon shook his head as the woman growled, “Do _not_ call him that.” She stepped into daylight but didn’t lower her weapon. “ _He_ was supposed to come take his son. That’s what he agreed to. I… my son cannot live like this.” She shook her head. Her eyes kept darting between them. “Everyone knows that _is_ his son. It only becomes more clear every-”

“Yes, yes. Of course,” Maester Tybald reassured her. “It’s clear from the boy’s eyes and it certainly does become clearer each day he grows into a young man. Lord Bolton is no murderer of children or slayer of kin. We have no weapons, Lola.” He grabbed Theon’s arm and yanked him forward. “Only a servant for our Lord’s son and a pregnant sow for you.”

“But…” Lola’s voice softened and her bow slowly dropped. “He’s supposed to _take_ Ramsay. He needs guidance. He needs _help._ He needs his father.” She shook her head and pulled back into her doorway.

“Mum?”

Theon’s stomach dropped. “What is this?”

Bushes and branches tore apart as though a stag were charging through them.

“Ramsay! Be careful! Get inside, pet,” she called, sounding both worried and defeated.

“YOU STAY INSIDE!” He roared and marched towards them, drawing a knife which wanted cleaning.

“Hello, Ramsay,” the Maester greeted. The large man made way when the gate flew open.

Rikard stepped back behind Theon but leaned past his narrow shoulder to examine the already infamous little bastard.

His nose was so much smaller, his face so much softer, but his eyes were just the same. Theon bumped back into the Bolton man who shoved him forward.

“Here’s a present from your Lord father,” Tybald took the opportunity to say.

Ramsay looked Theon over as he shook and shrank, staring in awe. “What the fuck is this?” Ramsay raised an eyebrow and smirked. “He smells like death.”

Rikard snorted and Maester Tybald shifted uncomfortably. “I brought you the strawberry biscuits you like.”

Ramsay smiled and snatched them without giving thanks.

Theon found he couldn’t breathe. His voice was light and high, but it was the same. _He was so much the same!_ The same sharp expression and penetrating stare; it was Ramsay without even a slight tint of innocence or helplessness. Yet, he was unmistakably a child still, hardly at the cusp of manhood.

 

_Theon was roused when the hood was yanked from his head. The Bolton bastard was so fucking close, Theon could smell his spiced breath. “Hello, old friend.”_

_“Wha-what do want? What do you want?” A Bolton? How? He still smelled the burning flesh and heard Smiler screaming. “Money?” he hoped. “I know it’s over. Let’s sit down and talk like civilized-”_

_“Civilized?” Ramsay repeated coldly._

_“Yes!” Theon’s chest sank with a sob he ground back. “Why would kill them all? You didn’t have to…”_

_“You’ve forgotten.”_

_Theon looked up. “What? Forgotten what?”_

_“Who you are. Who_ **_I_ ** _am.”_

_“I don’t…” tears fled his eyes as hot needles stampeded up his spine. “Please, I’m a prince! Only tell me what you want, and we can-”_

_“No.” The bastard’s face darkened. He beckoned his man Skinner to creep out from the shadows. The red glow of the dungeon torches shined on the curved blade he brought forth. “You have to remember your name.”_

 

“Reek,” Maester Tybald pressed.

Theon gasped. “No!”

“Come meet your little master like a good lad. This is Ramsay Snow.”

“Bolton.”

Everyone seemed to hear him that time. Ramsay grinned.

“Well, here is your charge. Take care not to disappoint Lord Bolton.” Maester Tybald nearly patted his shoulder but thought better of it.

Ramsay grabbed Theon’s wrist and the sow’s lead then pulled them both in through the gate. “It’s fine, mother. They’re just going now.”

She stepped out cautiously. “Are you armed?”

“N-no. I wouldn’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”

Ramsay yanked Theon down to his knees, catching him off guard. “Do you know how to read?”

“Y-yes.”

“And write?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Ramsay and his mother exchanged satisfied glances. “What else do lords need to know?”

Theon swallowed and furrowed his brow, answering truthfully because he couldn’t think of anything better to do. “The great houses, especially your own. Great kings and battles. How to fight and…” Theon stood suddenly, “be a gentleman. Every lord has to be kind to women, children, and… the weak.”

Ramsay snorted and tilted his head. “Not Boltons.”

“Yes, Boltons like you, my little lord. I’ll show you.”


	4. Human

“Ramsay, do you have your knife on you?” Lola’s voice was strong yet weary.

“Always. Take off your tunic. Show my mother you won’t hurt her.”

Theon sighed and pulled his tunic over his head, exposing his pristine skin. Ramsay patted his legs down. “Where are your shoes? Your hat and cloak?” Ramsay laughed maliciously right into Theon’s ear then gropped his ass.

 “I-!” Theon fell forward after jumping away and rolled to his side. “I don’t have anything!”

 “Just this.” Ramsay swiped the flower from behind his ear. “Mum, look! It has wax on it, like.”

 Lola cautiously took the flower and examined it. “It’s beautiful. Oh my,” she turned her head away when Theon stood. “He smells like a funeral pyre.”

Theon’s shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Please, that means very much to me, mistress.”

Lola set her crossbow down on the small table by the door. “Here,” she offered the flower, stretching her hand as far away from her as she could. “Come inside. It’s almost dusk.”

 

Theon expected to walk into another bakery, but entered more of a simple hearth. “Sit. We were just about to sup,” she mumbled.

“It smells wonderful.”

"You can smell? How do you go on living?!" Ramsay giggled and leaned against the door to shut it. He started eating the treats Maester Tybald gifted him.

Theon sat at an ornate cherry wood table. The hearth was lit by two thick plated windows. “You have a beautiful home, my lady.”

Lola smiled with the same exhaustion Theon felt. “Thank you. I’m no-”

“ _Mother_ , is the ale ready?”

“Oh, in the cellar, love. The butcher’s widow brought you honeywine. Would you like me to mull a pot for you?”

Ramsay wrapped his arms around his mother’s waist and kissed her cheek. “Yes!”

His eyes narrowed at Theon just as quickly as his smile had appeared. He sat across from Theon and devoured his treats, staring relentlessly.

“My husband’s grandfather and great uncles spent a decade building this mill.” She smiled fondly but Ramsay frowned. “As soon as it was finished, in a wonderful spring like this, they started grinding wheat from the fields, which have fallen into ruin now. You should have seen it then, before the wars, when Gareth and I were only children and this whole town was filled with our kin. They stored enough grain in the cellar to fill a long boat, but there was a crack in the wall and the river trickled ever so slowly through it. One day I came with my two sisters to have our barley ground and Gareth brought me down to show me how fine the flour was. Well, he opened a bag and I simply screamed,” she laughed, “as the flour was all moving about as if possessed. I thought I’d gone mad, but it was only all full of weevils.”

Ramsay sighed impatiently.

Theon smiled when she set a bowl of stew before him. “Thank you!” He blew gently to cool it. “Was Gareth…”

“Her peasant husband, the last of his family, rotting in the fields he plowed. See that tapestry?”

Theon turned to look. It was hard to make out by the firelight and fading sun alone, but it was clearly as fine as anything he’d seen in at Winterfell. “It… it is quite exceptional, my Lord. Lovely.”

“ **I** got that for for her from **my** brother. The windows you were admiring? The feather mattress upstairs? That crossbow she leveled at my father’s men? **I** got them for her,” he snarled at his wilting mother. “ **Me.**  From **my** lord Father. **I** fed us both while her husband fed worms and maggots.”

Ramsay turned to Theon now, piercing him with large, glowing eyes. “He sent me a knife and sword, a stipend, that pig, and,” he pointed his dripping spoon at Theon’s face, “you. But what am I to do with whatever the fuck it is _you’re_ supposed to be?”

Ramsay stood suddenly and began stalking back and forth in front of the table. Theon pushed his chair back against the cool stone wall. “I suppose you’re here to control me? Is that what he said? He thinks my mother’s too weak and I’m too wild? Is that it?” Ramsay stopped and looked Theon over. “But you’re lean, young, and meek. You have no weapons, no scrolls, not even shoes to wear.”

“I’m not here to take your power away, but to give you more; a path to the Dreadfort.”

Ramsay’s eyes widened.

“Please,” Theon motioned towards Ramsay’s seat. “You will be true Lord one day. You will be a fearsome and powerful man but sadism will be your undoing. Your Lord father will not abide a savage bearing his name. That is what he calls you, not wild. Savage. I can teach you to read and write, the history and the players you’ll need to know, but I need to teach you the civility you were born to exercise.”

“Civility?” Ramsay sat, wrinkled his nose at the thought. “It sounds boring.”

“Yes, but it will make you powerful.” Theon leaned closer, sliding his forearms over the table. “Isn’t that what you deserve?”

Ramsay grinned.

 

Lola stopped in front of a narrow stairwell and handed Theon a small torch and an armful of plush blankets. “There are servant’s quarters upstairs.”

He looked around the floor she shared with her monstrous son. It had a simple stone fireplace and the large, thick, clean feather mattress, which  Ramsay had bragged about.

“There’s a privy behind the garden.”

Theon nodded and climbed up to a small room with one window, one shelf and some bales of hay tied with twine. “Thank you very much for your generosity.”

Lola looked around and swallowed. “He,” she whispered, “he needs help. Can you help my son?”

“I…” Theon nodded slowly. “Good evening.”

  
After sweeping crumbs from breakfast off the table, Lola tore a leaf of paper from her ledger and dropped it on the table with a quill and some ink.

"Let us begin."


	5. War

“Close. Look, the little tail goes on the left. See? Try again.”

Ramsay dropped the quill on the table and exploded. “This is stupid! I can hardly see it’s so fucking cloudy!”

“You’re doing so well, Ramsay, honestly,” Theon entreated.

“Of course, I am!” Ramsay shot up and started pacing around his mother’s small garden. “You’re wasting my time! You said you would teach me to use the longbow when I could write my name and I wrote it two days ago!”

 _You’re much faster than I thought_. Theon rubbed his mouth. “You have to write it both ways, with your full title.”

Ramsay slammed both hands on the table and leered, growling, “You didn’t say that before.”

“Look, here. This is a common mistake.”

“I want you-”

“Ramsay, sit down you’re almost-”

“- to teach me how to hunt.”

“- there. You have to learn to recite your titles and write-”

“I DON’T HAVE TITLES! Saying it won’t make it so! I’ll have to FIGHT my way up, gods damn you! You SAID you were good with a bow.” Ramsay jumped up on the the stone table and kicked the ledger into the tramped grass. “I think you’re a fucking _liar_. What will my lord father think if I bring your mangled corpse to the Dreadfort?” He knelt and smiled kindly with dancing eyes. “What if peel your skin off and dry it out for him?”

Theon’s eyes popped open, then his face darkened. “Fine. Fetch me the bow while there’s some daylight left to us.”

 

Ramsay lay a rotten apple on his mother’s fence. He took but one step back so he could watch up close. “You cannot hit it from there, liar,” he laughed.

Theon’s hands were steady. He inhaled and let go.

The apple pulled back and rocked on its pillar.

Ramsay laughed and picked up the soft mess. “It went clean through! Do it again!”

“I will.” Theon swallowed and gripped the bow more tightly. “Run and fetch a green walnut from under that tree. They’re everywhere.”

Ramsay grinned and ran. Theon pulled another arrow from his quiver. When Ramsay had killed those boys at Acorn Mill, in that other life, it was so quiet. He must have stabbed them. Theon couldn’t remember him carrying a bow. But it was so fast and quiet. Only the mother yelped. Maybe it was just like this, an arrow through a round cherubic head. A zip and a fall, and a water will churning to drown out the sounds, just like this one.

He aimed just to the left to account for the wind.   _If he dies now, will they still die?_ She said he smelt of funeral pyre, but was it his own or the fire he tossed those two small bodies into? Was it his evil clinging to him still? Why had Theon come back from the fire?

He gasped and dropped to sit on the ground. “I can’t. Not a child. Not again.”

Ramsay came running back, his the bottom of his black tunic full of walnuts. He dumped them by the fence. “Show me, Reek! Get up and show me!”

Theon sighed and stood.

Ramsay cheered when the walnut went flying, just inches from his face.

They had each killed those boys, those unwanted, fatherless, peasant boys who had never hurt anyone in their short lives.

 

 

“More bread?”

Theon looked up at Lola, who had warmed to him of late. “Yes, please.”

“I’m sure he’ll return soon.”

“Please, eat, mistress. Your supper’s gone cold.”

“I just worry when he’s out this long. What is he _doing_? It’s such a short trip to the market.” She paced the way he did, but she didn’t seemed to as threatening doing so.

“No one will hurt him,” Theon assured her.

“No. I rather doubt anyone could.”

“Oh.”

She spun from the window to stare at her odd guest. “Do you?”

“I… no, I think he’s quite good at taking care of himself. You’d be in more danger than he could ever be. Let me go next time.”

“You’d frighten people off.”

“Oh, right. Of course.”

Lola came a little closer then turned back to search out the window. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to… That man  said he would send someone to kill Ramsay if he kept making trouble. Then that poor girl was mauled. I am certain it was a wolf. It would be clear to anyone… then you came. I was sure…” She chewed her thick thumbnail and started pacing again. “I don’t know what to do with him. He gets very _upset_ sometimes and in his eyes I see… that horrible monster. People don’t believe me.”

“I do.” Lola stopped. “I know who Lord Bolton is.”

She nodded. “Why did this happen to me? Why my only child?”

“I don’t…”

 

_“Prince Theon.” She was frightened of him like they all were. Her face fell when Ramsay shoved past to force his way inside. “Why? Why? What do you want?”_

 

Theon stood suddenly, knocking his chair over. “I’ll go look for him.”

 

Just a few paces down the dirt road he’d traveled in on, Theon heard terrible screaming. “Ramsay?” He held his torch high and found a small shadow in the woods.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Theon had to turn away.

“It’s just a rabbit.”

“Seven hells, kill the thing!”

Ramsay shrugged and stabbed it’s tiny screaming skull. “It will make nice gloves for mother. What do you think? I did that by moonlight.” He sawed off the last piece of a ligament and held up the pelt.

“You’re to kill to the gods forsaken thing first! Didn’t you hear it _screaming_?!”

Ramsay grinned. His sharp teeth seemed to glow. “Let’s play a game.”

“No!”

“The blacksmith’s widow is always kind to me. The baker’s daughter brings me treats. The cobbler’s wife is always sweet, but I hate that spoiled landlord’s niece, I want to make her scream.” He held up the meaty carcass.   
“Just like that. My friends are coming to join us. I can see very well in the dark.” Ramsay dropped the rabbit and slid into a shadow behind a gnarled sprawling tree.

“Ramsay? What are you doing?” Theon pushed his back into a trunk. “You’re scaring your mother.” He held the torch out at arm's length to scan the shadowed woods.

“I’m very quiet.”

Theon turned and his torch was stolen.

Ramsay ran up to a trail. “Come help me. I’ll share her with you. Come on, Reek.”

Theon shook his head.

“But you’re _mine._ My father gave you to _me._ You’re just my fucking plaything. You had better learn to listen or I’ll cut your fucking ears off and feed them to you.”

Theon roared and rushed until he tackled Ramsay. The torch fell harmlessly on the worn dirt and illuminated their struggle. It didn’t last very long. Theon was twice Ramsay’s size, and Ramsay was still a soft child.

Theon wrestled Ramsay’s arm behind his back and pulled his thumb back to make him whine. “STOP. Stop fighting or I’ll break it!” He pulled Ramsay up to his chest then sat on a stump and took the growling boy over his knee. He pulled the little beast’s tunic up and his breeches down, still twisting his thumb every time Ramsay jerked or kicked.

“Get off of me!”

Theon took off his belt and folded it with one hand. “No one’s ever disciplined you have they? Your father is too busy with his rightful heir and your poor mother is too frightened of you. You’re a wicked little brat, my young lord.”

The first strike hardly left a mark that could be seen by the flickering torch light. Ramsay growled and kicked then cried out when the blows kept coming, stinging and warming his reddening ass.

“If you want to be a lord you have to start acting like one. If you keep acting like a rabid animal, your father will but you down accordingly.”

“Fuck you! Get off!” Ramsay’s voice cracked and he stopped fighting.

Theon kept striking, steady and relentlessly until Ramsay finally started to cry.

Damon and Luton came running down the dirt path then skidded, as dust rose at their feet, to a stop. “Ramsay?” Luton looked nervously up at Damon who started laughing hysterically.

“Damon,” Theon said coldly. “Did you always let Ramsay tell you what to do? Didn’t you ever work out for yourself that you are older, bigger and stronger and he’s actually,” Theon dropped his belt and looked at Ramsay’s tear streaked face, “just a spoilt baby?”

Damon giggled and shoved Luton. "Come on!" They took off running and laughing into the dark.


	6. Ascent

Theon stared straight up at the stars then closed his eyes and sighed. The moment Ramsay squirmed, Theon wrapped his arms around him and brought the boy to his chest.

“Get _off_ of me!” His voice cracked when he roared. He didn’t fight.

“You don’t need those boys. They’re only making you worse.” They sat silently in the dark for a moment. “No one really ever helped you,” he realized aloud. “I’m sure your mother wants to, I know she does. Do you know what she’s been doing all night? Pacing, trembling, chewing her nails, staring out the black window searching for your shadow.” She’ll never control him, as strong as she is and as hard as she tries. Only one person ever could.

“Get OFF of me!” Ramsay tore away but Theon grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

“Ramsay, listen to me! You are going to be successful warrior and a powerful lord. Is that what you want?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then let me help you! Your sickness will ruin you! You can be so much more than a criminal who meets an early death and annihilates everything in his path.”

Ramsay kneed Theon hard in the crotch and backhanded him as he dropped.

Theon wheezed and grabbed his stomach, pushing his forehead into the dirt as Ramsay ran back into the inky woods.

 

After wandering aimlessly, and figuring nothing out, Theon went back to see Lola.

 

He still knocked before entering even though she said not to. He knew exactly how hard it was to be surprised after one has been terrorized. “Lola?”

He didn’t find her in the hearth so went up to her chambers.

“Lola? It’s only me.”

“She’s resting.”

Theon stood straight with surprise and pushed open her door. “Ramsay?”

“She’s ill,” Ramsay murmured. He was sitting by her side trying to coax her to drink. “You musn’t get upset like that,” he told her gently.

“That’s why she’s so frail?” Theon slowly entered and saw how pale and thin she truly was. “What is it?”

Ramsay only watched his mother’s face. “She’s had a fever for several days but she’s growing stronger now, aren’t you?”

Lola took her son’s hand and smiled wearily.

“I had stomach cramps like birthing pains, but they’ve passed now. Ramsay took such care of me.”

“Ramsay,” Theon knelt in front of him. “How long ago did your brother visit?”

Lola and Ramsay exchanged meaningful glances. “Is he sick like this? Is that why you’re asking?” Ramsay demanded.

Theon sank into sitting on the floor. “Yes. Yes, I think so. They say after a fortnight the danger has passed.”

“So, that’s why he really sent you,” Ramsay despaired even as his fists clenched, “because I’m his _only_ option now.”

Theon’s heart sank. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t keep himself from understanding.

 

_Theon wept in this mother’s arms, and pressed his cheek to her soft chest. She smelled like her favorite soap, which he would always remember. Asha stood brave and silent, despising the Northmen._

_Balon ripped Theon away and thrust him to the strangers. “To think, this is the only son I have left. Get him out of my sight,” he growled to the fur-covered, bearded men, shoulders wide as ship masts._

 

_Ramsay stood blinking and swallowed. “He disgusts me.”_

 

“We’re trapped." Theon gasped. "We’re just going in circles.”

Ramsay frowned at him. “ _Get out_. She’s sleeping now.”

Theon nodded numbly and collected himself. He stood and hung about a moment, searching for something to say.

Ramsay pulled his mother’s blankets up to her shoulder and kissed her forehead.

 

_The leader caught Theon as he stumbled towards them. “Come on, lad,” he said gently and laid his heavy hand on Theon’s shoulder._

 

_That night Theon wept again, though he tried to hide it. He was sure to die in a cold strange land. He wanted his mother. Why was he born to be hated?_

_“Theon?” Lord Stark, the leader, sat up in his bed. He didn’t sound angry at all._

_“I don’t know why he hates me,” Theon heard himself whisper, to his surprise._

_Ned got up and walked over to him. He didn’t strike Theon, or curse him, or even tower over him. He knelt down and said something which he would come to repeat many times._

 

“Ramsay, times like these make cruel men and your father is one of them, but _you_ don’t have to be. I see something better in you and I believe in it.”

Ramsay smiled at him the same way he did, in another world, when Theon had said, _“Yes, of course.”_

“Roose thought Domeric was too stubborn and independent. He’s counting on you to be desperate and bend to his will.” Theon shook his head and scoffed. “He’s _dreaming_. He won't wake until you’re already his heir.”

Ramsay tilted his head and looked Theon over. “Lower your voice. _I told you_ she’s sleeping.”

“Sorry. Shall we go downstairs?”

Ramsay bit his lip and wiped his mother’s sweaty brow. “No. Just be quieter.”

Theon smiled gently. “May I?” He gestured towards the floor.

“Just shut the fuck up.”

“That’s not how a lord should to speak.” Theon sat down and grinned. “I think... I may have misunderstood you, perhaps. I don’t want to keep making the same mistakes.”

“You act like you’ve known me all my life," Ramsay murmured and swept hair out of his mother's eyes.

Theon nodded and watching the peaceful fire. “As though we were old friends.”

Ramsay grinned.

 

Theon tapped the table with a ruler to get his young lord’s attention. “And who was _his_ father?”

“Brant,” Ramsay sighed. He carved another X into the table and eyed a bird flying by.

“Wrong, but close.”

“You’re wrong!” Ramsay snapped.

“It’s _Bran_. Bran, it rhymes…”

“What?” Ramsay tilted his head, looking much more like a puppy than a demon.

“Nevermind.”

Ramsay jumped up and ran back towards the mill. “I almost forgot!”

“Ramsay! We’re not finished!”

 

“Ramsay,” Theon called in a warning tone when he crossed the threshold.

“I found it! Here!”

“Don’t run down the stairs like that,” Lola yelled from her bed.

“It’s fine, mum!” Ramsay leap off from the third step and landed in front of Theon. “Look!”

“Ramsay! You’re not to run, you’re not to jump from the steps onto the stone floor, and you have not finished your lesson.” He took Ramsay’s arm firmly but gently and knelt to look him in the eye. “Do you understand why you must be punished?”

Ramsay rolled his eyes. “Yes, fine. But look!” He shoved his fist in Theon's face. In it was the stem of the flower Theon thought he’d lost. “It fell from behind your ear and landed by the rabbit I skinned."

“That-that’s why you went back into the woods?”

“You said it meant something.”

Theon nodded. “You did that… for me?”

Ramsay grinned and slipped from his grasp. “I don’t hate you. I even like your horrible smell,” he laughed and took off running again.

He sat on the bottom stair. “Huh.” Though his head was spinning, he didn’t feel like he was treading the same loop over and over anymore.

Theon walked outside, listened to the water flowing away behind him and saw the white moon smiling at him from high in the bright blue sky.


End file.
